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Thankfully, it does.
I wake alone.
Juliet is no doubt long gone, as I made it more than obvious I wasn’t in the mood for snuggling.
What thehellwas that? Not once, not ever, have I had to envision another to get off.
Tossing my blankets off, I reach for my cell and dial the only two people who can explain to me what the fuck is going on.
“You’re fucking like a woman.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, slightly offended, as I stare at Hunter over my coffee.
“You. Are. Fucking—”
“Yes, I heard you the first time,” I say, interrupting him. “But what does that even mean?”
“It means,” Hunter explains, waving his fork in my direction, “that you’re fucking with your mind, rather than your dick.” He finishes the sentence with his silverware pointing at my junk.
“Get the fuck out of here,” I cry, but holy shit—he’s right.
I’ve mentioned to both Finch and Hunter on more than one occasion that Juliet fucks like a man. She can fuck anytime, anyplace, just like a man. And I’m usually a hundred percent there with her, but this morning, I could only cross the finish line when it was Madison’s face and body I pictured driving into.
“There you go,” Hunter says, throwing his hands up in victory.
“That’s not possible,” I scoff, but it’s very possible.
It’s a well-known fact that most ladies fuck with their minds, while most men fuck with the head between their legs. It’s more of a challenge to stimulate a lady’s mind, rather than her G-spot. But if you can do both and you’re fucking her bodyandher mind, then you’re superman.
Women are, by far, the smarter species. While us men, we are utter morons.
“This is impossible. I mean, I’ve never had this problem before, and I’ve slept with some real…” I make a pained face. “But you’ve seen Juliet. She’s beautiful.”
“But she’s not the one you want to be screwing, obviously,” Hunter says around a mouthful of food.
I down my water, suddenly feeling sick.
“How does Juliet make you feel?” Finch asks, chewing on his fruit salad.
“Well, usually, she can make me come in five seconds flat.”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” he says, blanching. “Like afterward. Do you talk? Snuggle?”
“Dude!” Hunter exclaims in disgust.
But Finch ignores him, and continues. “After the act is done, what do you feel?”
I think for a while, and reply honestly. “Nothing.”
“Exactly,” Finch says. “It’s just sex, Dixon. I’m not the professional here…” He looks at me with a smirk. “But do you think Juliet is just filling a…void?”
Hunter snorts, and I eyeball him, as I can only imagine what wiseass comment he’s about to say about me filling a void.
“Maybe all these mechanical hookups have started losing their appeal,” Finch continues. “And Juliet was the first woman in a long time that was something a little more than just a booty call.”
I nod because he’s right. From the first moment I met her, I knew she would be trouble. Could it be that subconsciously Iwastrying to fill that void? Was I trying to make something out of nothing? But that doesn’t explain Madison.
“I could have filled this so called ‘void,’” I say, making quotation marks around the wordvoid, “with Madison, but I chose Juliet instead.” I’m interested to hear Finch’s thoughts.
